


Ink

by BoobsRadley



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, Warning: Infertility, Warning: Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 23:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoobsRadley/pseuds/BoobsRadley
Summary: All she can do is write her love letters and hope that one day, her love will write her back.





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I apologize for being gone for so long. I had a really rough summer. Some really bad things happened in my family, and I had to take a break. I am also graduating next month and busy applying to grad school, so it has been very hectic for me recently! I hope you all understand.
> 
> This story can also be found on FF.net through my account Shaynezo. It is a one-shot.

_September 19th, 2021_

_Dear Ember,_

_You have been out of my life for two years now. Two. It's unfathomable. It feels like just the other day you were in my arms. My face was buried in your neck, your hair tickling my cheeks. Your hair smelt of roses and your lips tasted like the sweetest of fruits. I still marvel at the fact that your lips are so soft. I miss you so much. Maybe one day you'll come back to me._

_Love,_

_Frost_

Her chipped nails tap against her wooden desk. It's smooth underneath her fingertips. The weather is blistery and cold. It's going to numb her skin and she'll have to make sure she wears an extra-padded coat. Her fingers shake just slightly as she folds the letter and seal it inside the envelope. Her beloved's name is sprawled out in the front with less-than-perfect handwriting but the stamp is placed perfectly in the right upper-hand corner.

_Dear Day,_

_Do you remember, baby, when we went ice-skating on a frozen pond? You insisted on going, even though I didn't want to. I'm not the best skater, but I would have done anything for you. You held my hand the whole time we were skating and I could only focus on how my skin was burning up, despite the fact it was freezing outside. When you kissed me afterwards, as we sipped hot chocolate, your lips burned mine more than the liquid did. You always had that affect on me, but I but you knew that. You were perceptive that way._

_Love,_

Night

This time when she stuffs the letter into the envelope, she seals it tightly. She doesn't want anyone at the post office tearing open her letter to her beloved and reading it. She knows that when she goes out this time to mail her letter, people will stare. They'll talk in hushed whispers that still reach her ears and burn in her brain.

_**"Did you hear about —?"** _

_**"— Such a sad story. Never thought it could happen to someone like her."** _

_**"— Too bad, they were a cute couple."** _

Her hands are cold, even though she is wearing gloves, and her walk to the post office is fast-paced. Since her love left her, she has only worn old sweats and she doesn't keep up her appearance. She hands over the letter silently, her lips pressed into a thin line. This time she'll write back. She has to. Doesn't she?

_October 31st, 2021_

_Dear Angel,_

_It's Halloween! It isn't going to be the same without you. I have written you a letter every single day for the past two years. I don't need to tell you how many letters that is. Our first Halloween together as a couple, we snuck into a haunted house, do you remember? We had more fun scaring each other than we did being scared by the attractions. I miss you. Come home so we can watch cheesy horror movies together._

_Love,_

_Devil_

Kids are dressed in funky, bright and colorful costumes as she makes her way to the mailbox. Unfortunately the post office has already closed, so it'll take a little longer for her letter to reach her beloved. Her hair is thrown into a sloppy bun and she brushes her finger over the stamp of Casper the Friendly Ghost that she lopsidedly stuck on the envelope. Her lips are chapped and she keeps her head down.

_December 26th, 2021_

_Dear Sour,_

_Christmas has passed and again you weren't here to spend it with me.. I miss you. I miss the hint of mischief in your eyes. I miss us. We were perfect together because we were imperfect. Did you know that I'm wearing the Burberry coat you got me for my eighteenth birthday? If I try hard enough I can still smell your scent on it. You need to come back to me. I know we fight, but all couples fight. Fighting is foreplay for us. I even miss your sour attitude and dry sense of humor. Just please come back to me._

_Love,_

_Sweet_

Her nails are almost chewed off. Each day, after she writes her letters and sends them off, she has lunch with her psychiatrist. She is a heavy-set woman who tells her things, these made-up stories that she doesn't want to hear. One of the most infamous ones was how she tortured her friends with cruel, life-threatening pranks and sick jokes. How she would hit her girlfriend. But she hadn't done any of that. It was all lies. As she slips inside the post office, she doesn't miss the gawks and whispers that follow. But she pays them no mind. She's used to it, after all. Hanna Marin, the pretty suburban blonde with committed the crime of the century. Or…whatever. 

_January 25th, 2022_

_Dear Dead,_

_My doctor says I'm getting better now since I started to take my medication. Memories are falling back to me like dominos. It's strange, what you can be capable of without even realizing it. Our friends don't talk to me that much anymore, and who can blame them? What I did was cruel but is it really that cruel when I barely have recollection of my actions._

_Anyway…I'm sorry I killed you. It was an accident. It was just an accident. That's what the nurses always tell me, and that's why I've been cooped up in this hospital. But I overheard my doctor talking yesterday to my mom. She doesn't think I would have done it if I hadn't been high on opiates and cocaine. Apparently I started abusing drugs after I found out I could never have a baby. We tried, like, fifty-something witchcraft methods to try to get pregnant. What is it called again? In-vitro-something-or-other? Well, whatever it was it never worked!_

_Sometimes I write your name on the walls with my pen. Actually, if you could see it, you'd be surprised. One entire wall is covered with you name:_

_**Spencer Hastings.** _

_This is the last time I can write to you. My doctor is a bitch and she thinks this need to stop. She tries to tell me you're never going to write me back, but what does she know? You can do anything. I have to go now. I can hear her coming. Don't worry, S, you don't have to write me back because I have a plan. I'll see you soon, darling._

_Love,_

_Alive_

_P.S. Did you remember to save a seat for me in Hell?_

**Author's Note:**

> I am excited to get back to writing! I hope you all are doing well. Please remember to leave reviews. :)


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